


set my heart aflame

by theworldabouttodawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, What am I doing, bb poe and parental relationships, unbetaed sorry, what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldabouttodawn/pseuds/theworldabouttodawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>poe doesn't have a soulmark.</p><p>then he does.</p><p>mostly canon-compliant except for the soulmates thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	set my heart aflame

**Author's Note:**

> title from hamilton's "satisfied" because that's the thing, isn't it? to use hamilton lyrics as titles.

_(then)_

Once upon a time, Poe Dameron had a soulmark – a jumble of illegible letters stretched across his collarbone. At the age of seven, he thought angrily that if he couldn’t even read his soulmate’s name, he might as well not even have one for all the good the mark did him.

That thought came back to bite him when the mark began to fade four years later. He didn’t notice it at first, but gradually the black mark turned grey, bleeding and spreading into his skin despite his best efforts to keep it there. His father found him painstakingly tracing the edges of his mark with a black marker one day, trying his utmost to preserve it. Eyes sad, Kes knelt before his child, gently taking the marker out of his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “Not everyone needs a soulmate.”

 

_(now)_

He’s yanked out of his cell, a blaster shoved into his side and aggravating his (presumably) already broken ribs. Adrenaline courses through him, giving him the temporary strength he thinks he needs to overpower this stormtrooper. It makes his skin prickle, and there’s a faint stirring of _something_ he can’t quite place properly in his chest – perhaps hope that he’ll get out of this alive.

The blaster jabs deeper into his side. “Turn here,” the trooper hisses in his ear, keeping their voice down like they’re scared of being overheard. Poe does as he’s told and finds himself shoved into a small closet-like alcove barely large enough to fit the two of them.

 _This might actually work_ , he thinks, pondering his chances of knocking out his handler and taking his armour.

“Can you fly a TIE fighter?” These words cut suddenly through his thoughts, and he realises that the trooper had been speaking for a while. Blinking owlishly, he realises that his handler has taken off his helmet, revealing perhaps the most gorgeous man Poe’s ever seen.

He barely musters enough of himself to reply, “I can fly anything,” still taking in the sight before him. His skin tingles with a spark of electricity at the wide, almost disbelieving smile that stretches across the other man’s face. _We can do this_ , Poe realises with a shock. _We actually have a chance._

And even if they don’t, he knows that he’ll do just about anything to make that smile appear again.

 

_(then)_

“Your mother would have wanted you to be a pilot,” Kes Dameron said gently. “Don’t give up now.”

Poe slumped in his seat. “But I crashed the X-wing!”

“It was just a sim,” his father insisted. “And everyone makes mistakes. Besides, you’re just starting out. Ms D’Malek tells me you still did better than just about everyone in your class!”

“But I didn’t complete my mission!” Poe whined. “How can I ever be a fighter pilot if I can’t even complete one lousy mission?”

“Patience,” Kes smiled. “You’ll be an ace pilot one day, Poe, don’t you worry.”

 

_(now)_

The controls of the TIE fighter are foreign under his hands, but he’s familiar enough with most planes that, true to his word, he can fly just about anything. The exhilaration of their escape pounds through his heart, sweat matting his hair.

“Did you see that? Did you see that?” the trooper whoops with excitement as they leave yet another explosion behind them.

Poe laughs. “Yeah, buddy, I saw that!” And then another missile arcs towards them and he has to forgo conversation for getting them out of there in one piece.

“What’s your name, soldier?” he asks during a lull in the gunfire.

“FN-2187,” the other man shouts back.

“FN – _what_?” Poe turns around to face him even though he knows that he can’t see him through the back-to-back seats. “Well, I’m not calling you that. FN, huh?” he muses, settling back. “Finn. How about that? Can I call you Finn?” His collarbone tingles with a brief pain, but he brushes it off as yet another scrape suffered at the hands of the First Order in favour of focusing on his new friend.

“Yeah! Finn, I like that,” he responds, joy evident in his voice.

Suddenly realising Finn doesn’t know his name, the pilot quickly introduces himself. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“Good to meet you, Poe!” Finn shouts, sending an unexplained thrill through Poe’s body at hearing his name in that voice.

But he tamps the sensation down and brushes it off. “Good to meet you too, Finn!”

 

_(then)_

Shara Bey flew countless missions against the Empire and yet came out of all of them more or less alive. Overexposure to a leaking fuel cell she had to repair after being shot down and crash-landing once had led to an eventually-lethal dose of radiation that would come back to bite in the form of cancer years later. “All those years fighting the Empire she hated, and she was killed by the thing she loved most,” Poe remembers his father saying bitterly.

They never talked about it in their little family, Poe and Kes and Lammer Bey, but every year during the spring they would make a visit to the Force-sensitive tree on the outskirts of town. Shara was buried in the cemetery, of course, but this was her favourite place, so they came here to remember her. Poe watched his usually lively and exuberant father retreat into himself on those days, the sting of losing his soulmate never lessening even as Poe himself grew ready for a soulmate of his own.

But, of course, he never got one. He had no mark. Seeing the pain his father felt every year at the anniversary of his soulmate’s death, he decided that maybe it was best that he didn’t have one. He would never want to even run the risk of feeling that kind of pain.

 

_(now)_

He blinks awake, gritty sand stinging his eyes and getting into his mouth. The hot Jakku sun beats down on his upturned face, and, with a start, he realises his jacket is missing – either stolen by a scavenger or torn off in the violent ejection. “Damn,” he mutters. “That was my favourite jacket.”

There’s no response, astromech beeping or otherwise. Poe wonders briefly where BB-8 is and if he survived the crash, but then he remembers that his droid is somewhere on this mess of a desert planet and most definitely not anywhere near him when he got shot down. But he wasn’t alone. There was –

“Finn!” he shouts, bolting upright. Every muscle in his body screams at him, but he ignores the pain, struggling to stand up. “Finn!”

Nothing.

Stumbling around, working through the burning pain, he frantically scans the distance for any sign of the wrecked TIE fighter. Nothing, not even a plume of smoke or settling dust.

There’s an ache in the pit of Poe’s stomach at Finn’s absence, far more than should really be expected from the possible death of a casual acquaintance, unexpected saviour whom he named or not. But it’s still there, and he can’t ignore it. Heart heavy, he picks a random direction and starts walking, hoping to find what passes for civilisation on Jakku and find BB-8.

Maybe he’ll come across Finn in the process. He certainly hopes he will. And he’ll try his damnedest not to think about what might have happened to Finn if he doesn’t find him.

 

_(then)_

At the age of fourteen, Poe took his father up into the air for the first time, planning to show him a secluded lake he and his buddies had found a half-hour flight away from town, perfect for swimming. The warm summer day practically screamed this kind of getaway.

Kes never liked taking his shirt off in front of his son. Shara’s name wrapped around his side in her flowing, spidery hand, and he didn’t want to continuously remind him of what he could never have. But once they touched down, and Poe ran into the water, thrumming and whooping with exhilaration, Kes didn’t spare his soulmark a single thought before pulling his shirt over his head and leaping into the water after his son. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to spend this kind of quality time with him, and he was just so _proud_.

Poe’s ecstatic too, the joy of a successful, uneventful flight coupled with his own pride at showing his father his skills flowing giddily through his veins. And the water is cold, refreshing, contrasting beautifully with the warm son above them. He’s happier than he’s ever been in his life.

Then the light catches what seems at first to just be a blemish on his father’s side, but as Kes turns to throw another handful of water at his son, Poe sees the faint imprint of his mother’s name, scarred and pitted, and he’s reminded with a jolt of the imperceptible mess on his collarbone.

The smile briefly fades from his face.

 

_(now)_

It’s been a long five days, but Poe is finally under the warm spray of water in his fresher on D’Qar, letting the shower sluice away the aches and pangs in his bones. He’s glad to be home, even if BB-8 is still missing, even if he never found any sign of Finn. He’s not sure _how_ , exactly, but he’s pretty damn positive Finn is still alive. There was a connexion of some sort between the two men, a spark that flew when they met or something, and Poe knows that he would’ve felt it if Finn had died in the crash or on the sands of Jakku.

But maybe that’s just wishful thinking. After all, it’s not like Finn’s his _soulmate_ or anything – that’s just preposterous. He can’t _actually_ have any kind of connexion. Poe just wants to hope his saviour with the wide brown eyes and the beautiful smile is alive and well is all. It’s the absolute least he can do for him.

Turning off the spray, he sighs and steps out, towelling himself dry. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaces at the state of his hair, the dark circles under his eyes, and five days’ worth of beard growth he really needs to get rid of. And he’s covered in bruises and scratches and it hurts to draw breath and lift his arms over his head, so he probably should have gone to medical after being released, but he needed to get the stink (or lack thereof) of the First Order and the _Finalizer_ off his body stat. So the bruises are there and to be expected and all, but there’s one mark on his collarbone that gives him pause.

It looks like a smudge of soot or oil or something to his bleary, sleep-deprived eyes, but he just took a shower so he knows it can’t just be grime. Swiping a finger over it confirms that the mark is definitely more than just a smudge. He peers closer at the mirror, trying to make out what it is, clearing the residue of exhaustion from his eyes as best as he can.

Four letters are inked in a precise hand, marching across the bone, each one exactly the same size as the others. “FINN”, it reads, black and sharply defined against Poe’s skin. The mark is tiny, barely legible, as if the writer was ashamed of their writing.

Poe’s heart skips a beat.

He rubs his eyes as if they’re lying to him and looks closer. The mark is still there.

There hasn’t been any sign of his first mark in the past twenty or so years, but Finn’s name has appeared in the exact same spot. As a new soulmark.

“What the fuck is going on?”

 

_(then)_

After the first time his mother took him into the sky, Poe couldn’t be content with staying on the ground anymore. Every waking moment, he was trying to get back up there, to feel the weightlessness and the void under his feet – sometimes people said that he must have wind flowing through his veins, the way he looped across the sky and swooped towards the ground. The sky was the place he felt most at home, where he belonged, and he couldn’t imagine never flying up again.

He often wondered if this was what having a soulmate was like, this feeling of belonging. “Guess I’ll never find out,” he would say quietly to himself.

 

_(now)_

The report comes in that BB-8’s been sighted on Takodana, so Poe takes Red and Blue Squadrons and flies there as fast as he can. If they’ve found his droid, there’s almost no doubt the First Order has too. And he still needs to complete his mission.

Of course, he’s right. (It happens more than Jess or Snap would like to admit.) When they come out of hyperspace, the _Finalizer_ is hovering on the other side of the planet, barely visible to them. Tiny sparks of light pepper a small coastal area that matches the coordinates he got, so Poe orders his pilots to get in formation, stay out of sight, and dive towards the water.

Maz’s temple is all but destroyed, to Poe’s dismay. It’s offered up some of the best drinks and memories he has. But there’s no time to dwell on that now – stormtroopers swarm the ruins like so many white ants, the red flash of blaster fire toppling stones and sparking tiny fire. TIE fighters gather above the combatants, firing on anything and everything without much regard for their own troopers on the ground.

With a whoop, Poe pulls up over the water, swooping straight into the thick of the battle and strafing a party of stormtroopers, forcing them to release their prisoners. Another fighter dives at him, but he soars back up into the clear blue sky and fires a single shot, sending the other plane spinning towards the ground in a tangle of steel and fire.

More come after him, but he isn’t Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance, for nothing, and soon they crash as well, plumes of smoke rising from the fires to mark where they fall. He whoops again, seeing the bright blue insignia on Jess Testor’s fighter as she loops unnecessarily, probably showing off to one of the new recruits that’s caught her eye.

Suddenly he sees a figure in a shockingly-familiar jacket firing a stormtrooper blaster one-handed, hitting their mark with every shot. A memory of a few minutes spent in a TIE fighter rises unbidden to his mind, along with a glimmer of hope that sets the mark on his collarbone tingling. Maybe that connexion he brushed off is real. Maybe the mark on his skin isn’t a fluke.

And maybe Finn’s alive.

He dares to hope as he speeds back to D’Qar.

 

_(then)_

Shara never told Poe where the jacket came from, despite the many times he asked. “It’s a long story,” she’d say with a wink and a grin, “and I’m just adding to it. You’ll get it someday.”

But she died before she ever got around to telling more than scattered anecdotes about the jacket, so Poe took it when his father handed it to him and vowed to add his own story onto that of his mother’s. He never went anywhere without it, no matter the climate or mission. The jacket was the thing that grounded him, reminded him of who and what he was fighting for.

For the memory of his mother.

For the way Kes looked at her under the starlight on Yavin 4.

For the legacy he has to leave.

It was the only thing that ties him to the earth when he was up in the air.

 

_(now)_

Poe’s climbing out of his nigh-unscathed fighter, handing his helmet to an aide, when he catches sight of a small orange and white droid barrelling towards him, knocking down and generally disregarding everything in its way.

“BB-8, my buddy!” he exclaims, kneeling down to greet it.

The droid beeps a quick greeting before going off in a flurry of astromech binary, beeping and burbling away about its escape from Jakku and a girl named Rey and the _Millennium Falcon_ and Han Solo and Chewbacca and…Finn?

“Finn’s alive?” Poe asks excitedly. BB-8 nods emphatically, as best as it can, and swivels its head to look into the crowd currently on the airstrip. Following his gaze, the pilot locks eyes with a person he had last remembered sweating up a storm, climbing into a TIE fighter, and feels his legs moving before he even tells them to. “Finn!”

“Poe? Poe Dameron?” Finn gasps out, disbelieving, even as Poe wraps him in a tight embrace.

It lasts for too short a time, and Poe wants nothing more at this moment than to blurt out something along the lines of “You’re my soulmate” and kiss him silly, but the logical part of his mind overrides that urge, justifying itself by telling him that “Finn might not even know what a soulmate is! Don’t traumatise the poor guy!” So he settles for a “You completed my mission!”

At least, he _tries_ to, but he’s giving Finn a too-obvious once-over as he does and _hey, that’s his jacket._

“That’s my jacket,” he blurts out.

“Oh– sorry–“ Apologetic and maybe a little bit embarrassed, Finn hurriedly starts to take off said jacket.

And Poe’s mouth goes dry, because 1. the sight of Finn in his jacket is hotter than it really should be, 2. Finn _taking off_ the jacket puts some images in his mind, and 3 –

“No, no, no, keep it!” he says quickly, breaking out of his reverie as fast as possible. “It suits you,” he adds, as if that’s justification.

 

_(then)_

The day they joined the New Republic Starfighter fleet, Poe watched his best friend meet his soulmate. He and Snap Wexley were leaving the recruitment office, heading straight to their barracks, when a tall green-haired girl tripped in front of them while talking to her friends, sending herself sprawling.

Being the gentleman he was raised to be, Poe rushed to her side, a bit shocked to find her laughing. “You all right?” he asked, offering a hand to help her up.

She waved him off, leaping up on her own. “I’m just a klutz is all. No harm done.” Then, taking a closer look at the pair, she added, “Wait, are you two new?”

Poe nodded. “Just signed up not five minutes ago. I’m Poe Dameron.”

Taking his proffered hand in a strong grip this time, she shook it with gusto. “Nice to meet you, Poe. I’m Elleren Kislor, callsign Green Three.”

“Elleren Kislor?” Snap asked, sounding as if all the air had been punched out of him.

Her eyes snapped to him, somehow caught by his gaze. “And you are?”

“Snap Wexley. Well, Temmin’s my given name, so that might be on your mark and – you’re my soulmate,” he hurriedly responded, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up and showing the carefully written words on his forearm.

Poe watched forlornly, ignored once again, as Elleren practically threw herself at his best friend, looking at him like he was the moon, and once again felt the boiling in his gut that told him he was never going to feel the same way.

 

_(now)_

He really can’t be more obvious, can he? Dashing through the halls to get to Leia as soon as Finn says he needs help, grinning like a loon when the general praises the ex-stormtrooper…

Well, Finn’s his soulmate, isn’t he? He’d be a fool _not_ to look at the other man like he hung the moon. But even as obvious as his affection is, Finn doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary as they discuss the upcoming assault on Starkiller Base.

All too soon, Finn, Han, and Chewie are ready to leave D’Qar, leaving Poe with a mild sense of dread. For the first time in forever, he’s got someone he can’t leave, someone to worry about when he’s up in the air. Someone else that grounds him. And all he wants right now is to tell Finn how he feels, show him the mark on his collarbone, and maybe kiss him into oblivion, but there’s no time for that.

There’s only time for a quick squeeze of the shoulder and a heated glance. But as he looks away from Finn, forcing himself to keep his eyes staring straight forward and not darting back over his shoulder to get one last glimpse, Poe promises himself that as soon as Starkiller Base is gone, he’s never going to leave Finn’s side.

 

_(then)_

When Muran died, as his commanding officer, Poe felt that it was his responsibility to bring the news to his fiancée, never mind how it would make himself feel. As he entered their shared quarters, he steeled himself, expecting to have to comfort a sobbing woman and try to reassure her that he died instantly, no pain, serving the Republic, flying, etc., etc. But the moment he’s actually face to face with the petite red-headed girl, all the words flew out of his mind at the sight of that knowing stare she levelled at him as she asked him to take a seat.

He tried to speak anyways. “Ma’am, I’m–”

She cut him off in a few clipped sentences. “You’re Poe Dameron, Muran’s commander. I know he’s gone. Don’t need you to tell me.” And before Poe could say another word, she got up from the couch and retreated to the bedroom, leaving Poe sitting motionless, shocked at her curt behaviour.

But then he heard the muffled sobs coming from behind the closed metal door and it all clicked into pace. Aluera had known of Muran’s death the moment his X-wing blew up, and had already had time to come to terms with it. But that didn’t make her grieving process any less painful. Losing a soulmate, he had heard, was like losing a part of your very soul. But what would he know?

He got up and took his leave.

 

_(now)_

Jumping out of his X-wing, Poe takes in the cheers and shouts of congratulations with a shade less than his usual enthusiasm, searching the crowd for a sign of the _Falcon_ , Finn, Chewie, or Han.

No such luck.

He avoids looking at the spot where Ello Asty’s T-70 was usually parked. Asty never found his soulmate, and Poe feels sick for being grateful at that, because at least there’s no grieving partner left behind. And among all the other pilots they lost today, that’s one less awkward encounter to have.

He hates being the one to tell people their soulmate is dead. It’s worse when he has to add that they died on his watch, under his command, following his orders.

Suddenly the whole base hears the tell-tale whine of the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s hyperdrive, and the crowd on the landing strip clears to make a place for them. Poe struggles his way to the front, making up his mind in a split second to be the first to reach Finn so he can check him over and make sure he’s okay. At least that’s what Poe tells himself he’ll do, although he’s mildly terrified that he’s going to do something spontaneous and consequently superlatively stupid.

But when Finn finally emerges, he’s rooted to the spot, standing stock-still, staring in disbelief at the limp figure Chewbacca is carrying in his hairy arms. “No,” he whispers in denial. “No, no, no!” he repeats, finally finding the strength to move, running after the Wookiee. _Finn isn’t dead, he can’t be, they had only just found each other –_

“I’ve got a pulse!” a medic shouts, and Poe sags in relief. He won’t be losing Finn today, at the very least.

But even though he’s laid out on a stretcher now, free from the unfavourable comparison with an 8-foot-tall Chewbacca, Finn still looks small and vulnerable, and it almost breaks Poe’s heart to see him so still and lifeless.

When the medics hurry him off to the medbay, Poe tags along. Finn shouldn’t be left alone to a bunch of medical personnel who he doesn’t know and who don’t know him. He needs a friend.

 

_(then)_

He only got to see his mother in a hospital bed once before she died. Whenever Kes brought him to visit, Shara always made an effort to get up, walk around, or at the very least lever herself into a chair.

“I don’t want your last memory of me to be me weakly lying in bed,” she had explained once.

When the day came that she was too weak to leave the bed, Poe decided he quite agreed with her.

 

_(now)_

The medbay is quiet, sterile, practical – everything that Poe hates. Every time he’s stuck in here, he goes stir-crazy and uses every trick he’s got to bust out of there as soon as possible. But he’s not going to leave Finn’s side for anything.

“Anything” comes in the form of BB-8 barrelling into the room, babbling about R2-D2 and Skywalker and the map and a request from General Organa to “please come to the command centre for a brief meeting, I promise that it will be very quick”. Completely ignoring Poe’s protests and insistence that he stay with Finn, the droid shocks him thrice before he acquiesces to a “ _very_ brief, mind you” break from his vigil. Dropping a kiss on Finn’s forehead, he follows his roly-poly companion out of the medbay.

He somehow manages to muster up a decent amount of enthusiasm for the completed map, settling comfortably into the hug the girl next to him wraps him in out of sheer excitement. But as soon as he ascertains that he’s not needed in any of the immediate subsequent missions, he hurries back to Finn’s bedside.

The sight of him lying in bed, so still, only the constant beeping of the machines offering any proof of life, stops Poe in his tracks at the doorway. Finn looks so small, vulnerable, _young_ , and Poe is overcome by the urge to protect this beautiful man (not that he really needs protection) and give him everything he wants and basically never leave his side. And, okay, fine, they’ve all but only just met, but Finn’s his _soulmate_ and that’s got to count for something, right?

He takes his seat next to the bed again, picking up his hand and pressing a tender kiss to his knuckles before resuming the book he was reading on his datapad. He’ll stay here for as long as it takes to see the life and exuberance return to Finn’s currently-unconscious form.

 

_(now)_

When he’s called away from Finn’s bedside to go on a mission, he grumbles a bit but does his duty to the Resistance, promising his comatose friend that he’ll be back.

Settling into the familiar seat in his fighter, he glances the pads of his fingers over the photo of his parents out of habit. But as he lifts off from the airstrip, he realises with a jolt that he no longer needs that picture to ground him. Shara’s legacy isn’t the only reason he comes back to the ground now.

The past is behind him, no need to dwell on it, but the future is ahead. And Poe Dameron is nothing if not laser-focused on his goals.

 

_(now)_

Finn isn’t changed when he returns, but it takes all of fifteen minutes of Poe holding his hand and speaking softly to him, urging him to wake up, for him to blearily open his eyes and shakily ask, “Poe?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me, I’m here,” Poe replies giddily, clutching his hand as he feels Finn squeezing back for the first time. “You’re safe, in the medbay, on D’Qar.”

“Rey?” Finn croaks out. “Kylo Ren?”

Handing him the glass of water on the nightstand, Poe reassures him, “Rey’s fine. She had to leave to go find Luke Skywalker, but she’s fine. We don’t know what happened to Kylo, though.”

“Starkiller?” Finn asks after gulping down the glass of water.

“You did it, buddy, don’t you worry,” Poe reassures him. The grin that lights up his friend’s face in answer is worth more than all the time Poe spent waiting for Finn to wake up. All his worry and fear for Finn’s life just fades away.

Poe realises in this instant that he wants to see that smile every day, just for him.

 

_(now)_

Now that Finn’s awake, his recovery progresses fairly quickly. It takes him some time to get used to the metal in his spine, but relearning how to walk again is honestly easier than Poe had expected it to be. It’s a shame, really, considering that Finn’s rapidly increasing mobility means that Poe won’t get to use “making sure Finn doesn’t fall” as an excuse for holding him close much longer.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to leave his side, though. Poe knows he’ll never be able to get enough of the wide-eyed wonder Finn exhibits at literally _everything_ on the base, up to and including flavoured food, card games, and _showers with water_.

Which, incidentally, Poe has run into a bit of a problem with. There are a good two or three weeks after Finn’s released from the medbay that he still can’t bend over, right? So Poe steps fully into the role of “good friend” (because he’s a coward and hasn’t mentioned the soulmark yet) and helps Finn undress. And _oh,_ sweet Force, he’s beautiful, all chocolate skin stretching across rippling muscles barely diminished by months in bed (somehow), but that’s surprisingly completely irrelevant. No, the point here is that Poe’s seen Finn naked, and there’s no sign of a soulmark anywhere on his skin.

Well, there’s always the possibility that the First Order somehow cut it out or burned it off or something – Poe honestly wouldn’t put even such a violation past them. But regardless, there’s no sign of Poe’s name on Finn’s skin (that he could see, at least), so he has no assurance that the four letters on his own skin are anything more than a fluke.

But Poe sucks it up, because even if his name isn’t inked in sprawling letters on Finn’s skin, no one else’s is either, and Finn’s beautiful (and lively, and joyful, and absolutely wonderful) enough for Poe to think that he would’ve fallen in love even without the soulmark.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Falling in love. It’s a trip into a sarlacc pit, and Poe’s thrown himself over the edge, tumbling head over heels for this gorgeous, stunning man.

 

_(now)_

Poe’s got an empty bed in his room, courtesy of Starkiller, and Finn’s been having some trouble in the infantry barracks (some people on D’Qar just _have_ to be bigoted assholes about ex-stormtroopers despite Poe’s best efforts), so Poe asks him to move in.

This is a mistake.

He doesn’t realise this until he comes back late one night after a long session of strategic planning to find Finn already (unsurprisingly, to be honest) asleep. Moving as quietly as possible, Poe gets ready for bed, mildly miffed that he didn’t get to say goodnight.

But in the darkness, he accidentally walks straight into a wall. The bang is loud enough on its own, but he hisses a Rodian curse instinctively that _definitely_ wakes Finn up.

He still freezes when he hears a noise behind him, though. “Poe?” Finn blearily asks.

“Sorry, buddy,” he responds, turning and flashing a smile. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay,” Finn reassures him. “Wanted t’wait up for you. Guess I fell asleep.” And _oh_ , kriffing hell, Poe wants to hear that sleep-roughened voice every day for the rest of his life.

Something tightens in his chest, tingling the mark on his collarbone, but he brushes it off and climbs into bed. “G’night, Finn.”

“Good night, Poe.”

 

_(now)_

Every day, Poe discovers more reasons to love Finn, and equally as many reasons why he never should have let him move in.

Today’s the day when Finn asks about his soulmark. It’s early morning, Poe’s just out of the ‘fresher, and Finn is still asleep. So he thinks it’s safe to parade about the room with nothing but a towel around his waist to preserve his modesty.

Except Finn’s awake and watching him with those wide eyes, and Poe’s suddenly acutely aware of the four letters on his skin, standing out black against olive. He shoots a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening that Finn’s too far away to make out what his soulmark says.

“Why do you have a tattoo of my name?” Finn asks, dispelling any belief Poe might have had in a higher power.

Poe sighs. The last thing he wants to do right now is explain to Finn how they’re meant to be together, it’s fate, it was predestined, et cetera. Finn’s only just discovered the freedom of choice; Poe doesn’t want to be the one who takes that choice from him. But he also can’t lie to Finn, not when he’s staring at him with those big brown eyes, gazing at him like he holds all the secrets to the universe.

Poe also knows that Finn hates being coddled. So he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and says, “It’s my soulmark.” Of course, that’s not enough for Finn to understand, because the non-existent gods hate Poe, so he adds, “It means you’re my soulmate.”

Understanding slowly dawns on Finn’s face, and Poe breathes a silent sigh of relief. “They told us about soulmates in the Order,” he says slowly. “Burned our marks off so we would never know. Said they were a distraction.” Poe opens his mouth when Finn confirms his theory, but Finn speaks over him. “They couldn’t find mine, though, so I guess they never bothered.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Poe turns this new information over in his head for a moment before replying gently, “Then this – my mark – doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But even as he says it, he knows he’s never been more wrong in his entire life.

 

_(now)_

“You alright in there, buddy?” Poe asks, knocking on the door of the ‘fresher. Finn’s been in there for a suspiciously long time, and the water stopped running a while ago.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Finn responds, sounding a little strained. “Just give me a moment, unless you need in?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Poe calls back, settling on his bed with a datapad. He’s still worried, but Finn’s an adult. He can take care of himself.

He comes out of the ‘fresher some time later, towel slung low around his hips and giving Poe some mental images he really doesn’t need right now, not with Finn himself in the room. Not when he’s resigned himself to pining for the rest of his life over this beautiful, intelligent, amazing man in front of him. And Poe thinks he understands the whole soulmate thing now, because he looks at Finn and sees the stars. Finn isn’t even his, but Poe can’t imagine a life without him.

“Hey, Poe?” Finn asks, breaking him out of his reverie. “Can I show you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” Poe replies, setting the datapad down and forcing himself not to add “anything”, because that’s what he’d do for Finn. And _ugh_ when did he get so damn _sappy_?

But Finn is beckoning him over and turning around “Look at my hairline,” he says. “Back of my head.”

Poe doesn’t see anything, and says about as much.

“Look closer,” Finn insists, and Poe gets closer, feeling the heat radiating off the other man and his body vibrating with – excitement? Yes, excitement, because this close his skin is flushed with a light sheen and Poe just wants to _lick_ him and–

There are ten letters trailing along Finn’s hairline, each one blending into the next in a nigh-illegible mess. But Poe can read it, because he’s written exactly that a hundred thousand times.

Inked on the base of Finn’s skull, almost hidden in his hair, is Poe’s name. _Poe Dameron_.

And Poe exhales sharply, breath skittering across Finn’s skin, and the other man shudders briefly as Poe asks incoherently “What– how–”

“I talked to Dr Kalonia about the soulmark thing,” he says, and there’s a note of smugness in his voice. “She agreed to help me look for mine, but I had to see for myself.”

Poe’s fingers move of their own accord, ghosting over his name on Finn’s skin, marvelling at the sensation. “Finn…” he whispers, almost worshipfully.

Finn turns around to face Poe, reaching out and caressing his collarbone where he knows his own name is imprinted. At the sensation of his fingers over skin, Poe nigh on _whimpers_ , feeling a burst of electricity coursing through him, heightening every one of his senses and filling them all with nothing but Finn. His gaze flickers to the other man’s lips, plump and parted ever so slightly, and licks his own instinctively in response. Stars, but he wants to kiss him.

“You’re my soulmate, Poe,” Finn breathes out, leaning closer, just a smidge taller than him.

Those three words (well, four including his name) have been the words Poe’s been secretly longing to hear for the better part of his life, and to hear them coming from that _sinful_ mouth on a man he’s definitely completely in love with just ruins him, and it takes all his willpower not to push Finn onto the bed behind him and climb on top, but he has to make sure.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, trembling with anticipation.

In response, Finn meets him with a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue – too much and not enough all at the same time. It’s not Poe’s first ride (there are plenty of humanoid species out there without soulmarks, and plenty more humans with soulmarks who don’t care about them) but clearly it’s not Finn’s either. Poe makes a mental note to ask him about this later, but then gives up all mental activity in favour of focusing on the _here_ and the _now._

_(later)_

They’re tangled up in the sheets on Finn’s bed, lazy with afterglow. Finn’s hand has worked its way into Poe’s hair, presumably mussing the curls beyond repair, but Poe can’t bring himself to care about that right now. Not when Finn’s tracing his name on Poe’s collarbone with his tongue, little kitten licks that send jolts down Poe’s spine and leave him even more of a warm melting mess than he already is.

He runs his fingers along Finn’s hairline at the back of his neck, where he knows his own name is traced out in his sprawling handwriting, and marvels that after everything, he somehow has this all to himself. After years and years of not having anything to ground him, to tie him to the future and to the earth instead of the memories of the sky, he now holds in his arms someone more precious to him than anything he can ever think of.

“Credit for your thoughts?” Finn asks, levering himself back up and pulling Poe into a proper kiss (which kind of defeats the purpose of the question, seeing as that it occupies his mouth for a lengthy amount of time).

When they finally break for air, Poe’s grin mirrors Finn’s as he murmurs, “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“You’ll always have me,” Finn promises with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to karen for bugging me about the fic at least once a week in physics or calc. here is the stormpilot fic you've been waiting for. 
> 
> also to vii for checking for typos after i posted it lol
> 
> come talk to me at sammytwilson.tumblr.com


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